The Unbroken
by Sebias of Redwall
Summary: The Northlands have been plagued with slavers for many seasons now. However, they have never seen any like Bertvar the Slavemaster! Only a few beasts are brave enough to stand up to his evil. But they are outnumbered and outmatched. Who knows how long they'll last against the fury of the wolf slave-master?
1. Chapter 1

**THE NORTH COAST**

Dark clouds had gathered on the Northern shore, bringing a refreshing sheet of rain to the gardens of the Northtrekker Tribe. The Northtrekkers lived inside caves on the side of a cliff wall. None of them knew, but many, many seasons earlier, Luke the Warrior and his mice had lived in these very caverns.

On this gloomy evening, a shrew father was having some difficulty putting his two small children to sleep.

"Daddy, are ye going tae tell us a story again tonight?" A young shrew roughly six seasons old asked his father.

Chief Broge smiled at his son. The shrew chieftain was tall for a shrew, broad-shouldered and of strong built. "Well… maybe," he drawled out slowly, watching as his two children –a young lad and lass named Tragg and Rosebud– eagerly bounced on their straw beds.

"Did ye both finish your cave-cleanin' chores?" Broge asked, though he already knew the answer. He wanted to build up their anticipation.

"Yes, Daddy, we did," they both said eagerly at the same time, "Now will ye tell us th' story?"

"Oh…" Broge glanced from one excited twin to the other. "…Alright. I guess."

Tragg and Rosebud eagerly squealed with glee.

"What's th' story gonna be about?" Tragg asked.

"Yeah, is it going tae be about Redwall Abbey or something?" Rosebud added eagerly, clapping her paws.

"Not quite." Broge winked. "I'm going tae tell ye a story about your Uncle Rones an' I."

"Is it a made up one?" The little girl asked, brushing her long pretty headfur out of her eyes.

Broge chuckled and sat down on the bed beside her. "No, lassie, it's a true tale alright. If ye both sit down, I'll tell ye."

Both of the young creatures immediately sat back down in their beds and snuggled up in their blankets.

"We're ready!" Tragg chirped.

"Alright then, "Broge began, "It happened a long, long time ago when your uncle an' I were traveling the Northlands together…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note:**

**So this story will be quite short compared to my other story, **_**The Grey Warlord, **_**in fact, I had originally planned for this to be like five chapters long. XD I had written most of these earlier chapters when I had first started writing, but then I had thought I had lost the documents. But as you can guess, TA DA, I found 'em! XD **

**Now, to review responses…**

**Waycaster: Thanks, this was one of the first times I've used this style of starting a story, because sometimes the creatures telling the story in the beginning can be… rather spoilery. XD For instance, if I had a really old hamster telling young ones the story of TGW to a group of Dibbuns, it would make my readers look at hamsters in a totally different light. (Just in case anyone was wondering, that was just an example. I doubt that it would happen. XD)**

**Firestar the Warrior: Yup. While this short story is supposed to flesh out Broge and Rones' characters a bit more, there is always an opportunity to give the readers a peek at the better-known TGW characters.**

**The Grey Coincidence: Yeah, for some reason I always like going back and writing the shrew family before Hookarm's attack. It probably has something to do with the fact that, well, they **_**were **_**the first characters I had ever written. **

**Abrahem: An interesting question to be sure. Without giving and spoilers from future chapters in TGW, I would say that Tragg would have a hard time remembering because after all, he was only six seasons old when he heard this story… But to be honest, I hadn't really thought of that, so thank you for bringing that to me attention. **

000000000000000

**NORTHLANDS: MANY SEASONS EARLIER**

The night was dark and quiet as a group of armed woodland creatures slowly crawled their way through the undergrowth toward the flickering campfires that shone in the darkness ahead.

The creature leading the attack was a young shrew named Broge, Chieftain of the Furious Freedom Fighters. Most creatures would've found it strange that such a young and ordinary-looking shrew would be a leader of such a group, but anybeast who knew the young chief well, knew that he wasn't your ordinary wet-behind-the-ear young warrior.

Broge had lived with his brother Rones by the Black Mountains before they had taken up wandering the Northlands together, looking for adventure. They had gotten more of it then they had bargained for when they had been ambushed and captured by a slaver band. After days of forced marches, beatings, and torture, Broge and Rones had just managed to escape before the vermin band had reached their destination. They learned later from other fellow woodlanders that their escape's timing was quite lucky since the slavers had most likely been leading them to Bertvar the Slavemaster.

_I sure hope this attack works, _Broge thought to himself as he poked his head up and glanced toward the campfires through the small branches of the bush he was hiding in. He was rather stocky for a young shrew of his age, with hazel brown eyes and spiky fur. He held a short rapier in his right paw and, after he had scanned around a bit, used the rapier to tap the shrew beside him on the shoulder.

"Rones," Broge whispered with his thick northern accent, "I need ye tae take half o' us an' sweep around tae th' right. I'll take th' rest an' attack from th' left and th' front. Sound good?"

"Aye, brother," Rones whispered. "I'll get it done." With that, the white-furred shrew crawled off to give the troops their orders.

_Good ol' Rones. _Broge couldn't help but grin as he watched his younger brother stumble as quietly as possible through the dark forest. _ I'm lucky to have him as my second-in-command. I don't know where I'd be without him._ Broge shook his head and smiled to himself. _I'd probably have died a long time ago of sheer and utter boredom without his jokes and cheerful spirit! _

Broge's thoughts were interrupted as a red squirrel suddenly sided up to him and gently nudged him with his elbow. "Should all of the other archers move up now?" The red squirrel asked.

"Aye, jus' make sure that ye don't shoot until Rones gives us th' signal."

The red squirrel gave his chief a quick nod then scampered up a nearby tree, followed by his group of fellow squirrel archers.

Broge crawled forward on all fours until he could finally see the faces of the vermin guards that they were here to defeat, hopefully once and for all.

"Ye'll not escape this time, Bertvar," Broge growled to himself as he waited for Rones to give the signal that he and his troops were ready. "Your days o' slaving creatures is comin' tae an' end, ye coward."

His eyes suddenly darted up to the night sky as a fire-arrow suddenly appeared over the vermin camp, blazing like a falling star. Rones was ready.

Broge jumped up from where had been lying, and pointed his rapier at the vermin camp. "Freedom Fighters, attack!" the young shrew charged off, waving his weapon and roaring out his battle-cry: "FREEDOM FOR TH' NORTHLANDS!"

His cry was taken up as a small tide of woodland creatures bared their weapons and thundered off after him into the vermin camp from all sides while squirrel archers shot arrows at any vermin that they could see clearly from the treetops.

Two of the weasels on guard instantly started running about, screaming at the top of their lungs as they tried desperately to awake their companions.

"Wake up!"

"We're being attacked!"

"Get yer weapons!"

"It's everybeast fer 'imself!"

Broge plunged his rapier into the throat of one of the weasels before the vermin barely realized what was happening. Grabbing the vermin's light javelin from his dead paws, he hurled it with all of his might at a fat stoat who was trying desperately to scramble out of the action into hiding. The stoat gave a gasp of pain as the spear took him full in the chest. He fell, never to rise again.

Broge, along with a few of his sworn bodyguards, hacked and battered his way through the surprised mob of waking vermin until he reached the middle of the camp, where a group of terrified slaves were tied to a large walnut tree.

When he finally reached it, he charged up to the tied slaves and with two mighty swings with his rapier, he cut the large rope holding them captive.

"Run!" Broge shouted, "Run into th' forest! We've got creatures there who will take care o' ye!"

The bewildered slaves took one glance at the scores of vermin and woodlanders fighting to the death before them and decided that they'd take the shrew's advice. They stumbled and ran in the dark until they reached the line of trees where five large otters armed with javelins were waiting for them.

As Broge and his fighters protected the slaves' backs, a thunderous howl suddenly shook the battlefield.

"ARH-WOOOOOOO!"

Bertvar the Slavemaster came thundering out of his large tent, still buckling on the last pieces of his armor. The massive wolf glanced around at the chaotic battle that was raging inside the camp. Drawing his incredibly long scimitar, he sliced the head off of an otter who happened to be standing at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"ARH-WOOOO! Rally to me, my soldiers! Together we shall drive these meddlesome woodlanders back into the shadows from where they came!" Knocking over two mice with a one sweep of his arm, he plowed through the woodlander ranks, wreaking havoc with his long scimitar.

"Broge," a voice suddenly yelled at the young shrew chieftain.

Broge turned to see Rones running up to him, the side of his head covered with blood.

"I think we woke up ol' Scare-whiskers 'imself!" Rones declared, shifting his rapier from paw to paw. "Should I tell th' archers tae get ready for 'im?"

Before Broge could reply, one of the other woodlander commanders came rushing up, shouting to Broge as he did, "We've got a huge problem, Chief." He panted, leaning over as he tried to catch his breath. "There are _a lot _more vermin camped over in the trees over there," – He pointed a weary paw over to the left side of the camp – "My archers are trying to hold 'em off, but the forest is crawling with 'em! I'd say there's at least four or five-score of the vermin, an' that's not even including th' ones we're fightin' right now! We're vastly outnumbered!"

Broge mumbled a frustrated oath under his breath. Trying to appear somewhat calm in front of the others, he ordered, "Tell th' troops tae pull back. We've already freed th' slaves, that's all that matters."

The red squirrel nodded, then took off into the fighting once again, blowing a loud wooden horn for all he was worth.

"Retreat! Fall back!"

Rones suddenly grabbed Broge's arm as the small woodlander army turned from their foes and tried to fight their way toward the safety of the dark forest surrounding them. "But what about killing Bertvar," Rones asked, his eyes full of the light of battle, "are we jus' gonna let 'im escape?! This is th' closest we've been tae getting 'im wit'out his big army in our way! This might be our last shot"

Broge shook his head. "No. We'll live tae fight another day. And besides," he added grimly, glancing over as he heard sounds of the rest of Bertvar's vermin crashing through the forest to join the rest of the main force, "his big army is on their way now, so its time tae go! Do ye trust me, Rones?"

Rones didn't hesitate for one second. "Aye, brother, I trust ye wit' mae life. Ye know that!"

"Good. Then gather th' rest o' th' soldiers an' get them tae safety. Go!"

Broge turned to see that most of the woodlanders had already made it out of the clearing. Only a few otters and shrews were still fighting their way back to safety. They were lucky to have a score of the finest squirrel archers in all of the Northlands covering them, shooting red-fletched arrows at the incoming vermin horde.

An amused voice suddenly chuckled dryly from behind Broge. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Broge, Chief of the Rabble-Rousers."

The shrew whipped around to see Bertvar the Slavemaster standing there, holding his scimitar at ready as he looked down at Broge.

"You know," The wolf said calmly, "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop trying to free my slaves. It's becoming rather bad for my business."

As much as Broge wanted to stab his rapier right into the wolf's calm face, he knew that he wouldn't stand a chance at fighting Bertvar alone. The wolf was easily four times the size of him, and it was rumored that he had killed a badger once with nothing but his bare claws and fangs.

"If ye would stop capturing slaves I wouldn't 'ave tae free 'em," the shrew retorted, slowly backing away as he looked around desperately for an avenue of escape.

"Look, I admire your courage, really I do, but this is getting rather out of paw." Bertvar said as he swung his scimitar skillfully at Broge's chest.

The shrew's rapier couldn't possibly block the massive weapon if he hit it dead on, so Broge dodged to the side with the slipperiness of an eel, and tilted his rapier so that it would just redirect the wolf's questing blade, instead of trying to stop it completely.

There was a loud _sssssshrk_ as both of their blades met, the massive scimitar sliding off the rapier and hitting the empty ground where Broge had been a second ago.

"Hmm, well done," Betvar smiled smugly, "Not many creatures could do that. You always find a way to surprise me, I'll give you that."

"Would ye jus' shut up," Broge growled as he thrusted his rapier at the wolf's knee, knowing all too well the wolf's tricks.

Bertvar blocked the blow with an almost idly-looking flick of his massive scimitar. "Really, Broge, just give up and I might even consider sparing your life."

Broge was too busy trying to dodge the wolf's blade to give a reply. Bertvar's weapon struck out suddenly, and when Broge jumped back to dodge it, the shrew fell onto his back. _He's way too strong! _Broge thought as he tried to crawl back onto his footpaws. _He's merely toying with me! _

A voice suddenly screeched from behind Bertvar. "Death tae th' Slaver!"

The large wolf spun around to see Rones charging him from behind, Bertvar side-stepped out of the shrew warrior's way and sliced Rones' paw in the process, causing the shrew to grunt out with pain.

Rones ignored his wound as he ran past the slavemaster and helped Broge back onto his feet. "Come on, brother, we need tae go!"

Broge called, "I'm right behind ye!"

Broge was surprised as Bertvar stood back and merely watched as both of the shrews ran as fast their legs could carry them into the darkness of the night.

"Just remember," The wolf called out behind them, the fires in the camp illuminating his face so that he looked like some fanged monster from the dark depths of Dark Forest. "If you attack me again I shall kill you, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

His evil laugh rang through the trees and followed them as they reached the safety of the woods.

000000000000000

**IN THE NORTHERN CAVES: PRESENT DAY**

Back in the northern caves, Broge yawned and stretched his arms. "Well, that's th' end for tonight I guess. Sleep tight, don't let th' bedbugs bite," he grinned slightly. He went over to Tragg's bed and smiled as he saw his son's sleeping face. Tucking him in, he kissed his six season old son on the forehead then walked over to where Rosebud sat up in her bed, clinging to her blanket.

"But, daddy, tha' can't be da end," she protested, "It doesn't 'ave a happy ending. A story can't be good if it doesn't 'ave a happy ending, besides," she added, "I'm still not sleepy."

Broge paused. "Hmm… Well, I guess it's not _that _late. Maybe I could tell ye a bit more." Chuckling, the shrew chieftain shook his head. "Let's jus' 'ope that Tragg doesnae feel like he missed out on anythin'." He glanced at the snoring Tragg. "He dropped off to sleep like a log right when I started the story. Is my story-telling that bad?"

"No, um… I don't think so." Rosebud replied, smiling innocently. "Tragg's probably really tired 'cause we were playing swords wiff th' other boys."

"Ah." Broge hesitated for a moment longer then heaved a sigh and sat back down on the side of Rosebud's bed. "Okay, fine. I'll try tae finish the story. It might take a while though… Maybe even past midnight." He smirked mischievously. "Don't tell Eleanor that I let ye stay up that late though. She'd 'ave one heck o' a fit. Anyway," he took a deep breath, "Where were we…"


End file.
